


you go too fast for me

by I_Cant_Write



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Arguments, Aziraphale is afraid Crowley doesn't like him, Crowley is so head over heels for him but Dumbass is Aziraphale's middle name, Fluff and Angst, Holy Water, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, he's such a soft boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Cant_Write/pseuds/I_Cant_Write
Summary: Over six thousand years, Crowley had changed his haircut at least 60 times, changed his fashion style something into the hundreds, and changed his mind…well, changed his mind far too quickly.Aziraphale will not be another thing Crowley leaves behind.





	you go too fast for me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I just started watching this show and it's amazing. 
> 
> To give credit where credit is due, I based this story off of this textpost by @carocane on tumblr:
> 
> "Aziraphale finds something he loves and holds onto it. It’s a large part of why he thinks Crowley goes too fast. It’s not just his driving. It’s how he so quickly goes from one thing to another. He doesn’t want to be just another thing Crowley leaves behind."
> 
> this is kind of an exploration into Aziraphale's mind throughout the holy water scenes, and then the wrap up after the lunch at the Ritz. 
> 
> ok I hope you enjoy, please comment if you liked it because the validation will make me feel like a person again.
> 
> (Also I know that angels and demons don't have genders but it makes it easier for tags if I put them as males.)

Crowley lived life on the edge.

That was his job, he supposes. As a demon, Crowley was supposed to live between the lines, from one earthly pleasure to the next, taking thrills where he could find them.

Over six thousand years, Crowley had changed his haircut at least 60 times, changed his fashion style something into the hundreds, and changed his mind…well, changed his mind far too quickly.

Aziraphale was a simple angel. He loved earthly pleasures just as much, if not more than the demon, but he liked the simple ones: a bottle of wine shared with an old friend during a philosophical discussion at three in the morning, eating at a rundown hole-in-the-wall that just makes the most scrumptious enchiladas, drinking a cup of raspberry tea while reading a good book during a soft rainstorm, surrounded by the light of candles.

The things Aziraphale kept close to his heart had been the same for thousands of years. Even his clothes and his hair only changed when they absolutely had to for him to seem unsuspicious. 

Once Aziraphale found something that he enjoyed more than anything else, he held onto it.

But his dearest friend, he was something else entirely. 

Crowley was a wildfire, spreading from one thing to another, scorching everything he touched. 

And once his blaze charred that thing beyond loving, he would just spread to the next. Always moving, always taking, and leaving nothing in his wake.

He’d been captivating at first. He’d liked the way the flames danced.

But it had taken Aziraphale too long to realize that fire is dangerous to books, to food, to clothes and old fashioned things. Like him.

“This is something else,” Crowley drawls, “For if it all goes pear-shaped.”

Aziraphale frowns, “I _like_ pears.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, but he has the slightest hint of a smile on his face, “If it all goes _wrong_ ,” Crowley sucks in a breath, “I want insurance.”

Aziraphale furrows his brow. Insurance? Pear-shaped? But the agreement was good, it was all going well, and maybe they were starting to…

No, he’s probably right. This was a bad idea, and Aziraphale knew it too. Crowley was right to be nervous about it.

As he empties the bread from his hat and places it back on his head, Crowley thrusts a piece of paper into his hands.

“I wrote it down,” his voice is lower, “Walls have ears. Well, not walls, trees have ears.”

Aziraphale opens the paper, glancing down. His mind won’t even register the words he’s reading.

“Ducks have ears,” Crowley continues, “Do ducks have ears? Must have.”

Aziraphale feels his body break out in goosebumps. No, no no no. He can’t. He wouldn’t.

Aziraphale hopes that the fear pounding in his chest shows on his face, “Out of the question.”

“Why not?” Crowley hums, as if this was like requesting a bottle of wine or lunch with him.

Why not? WHY NOT? What he’s asking for is incredibly dangerous, something that would…

“It would destroy you!” He hisses earnestly.

Crowley won’t look at him, as if he’s pretending he can’t hear.

_Insurance. In case it all goes wrong._

In case their friendship gets them in trouble. Holy water. To end him, to destroy him for good.

Rage shakes Aziraphale’s body like a leaf. Love one thing for a while and then move onto the next. 

_Ah, Aziraphale, as much as I loved our friendship, I think I’m tired of it now and I’m going to drink some holy water so that I can move on from you, just like I move on from everything. I’m the demon Crowley, and I don’t care about what you think or feel, I care more about my own self and my insur—_

“I”m not giving you a suicide pill, Crowley!” he swallows and forces the paper back into Crowley’s hands.

Crowley scoffs, and his eyes scan back and forth under the sunglasses, “That’s…not what I want it for, just insurance!”

“I’m not an idiot, Crowley!” He snaps, and he wills his eyes to not tear up. It’s not like Crowley’s the only one that would be hurt if they found out, but no, he would just leave him to the dogs, just like demon’s do. “Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if they found out I’d been…”

Crowley glares at him.

“ _Fraternizing_? It’s completely out of the question.”

“ _Fraternizing_?” Crowley spits back at him, incredulous. Finally, the demon was looking at him, and all Aziraphale could see was anger, and something a little bit like hurt in his eyes.

“Oh, whatever you wish to call it,” Aziraphale sighs.

_You’re not the only one who gets in trouble. You don’t get to just leave me behind for the next thing just because you’re scared of making anything last!_

Aziraphale swallows, “I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.”

He can see Crowley’s body tense, like Aziraphale is hurting him. He raises his voice, and shows his teeth.

“I’ve lots of other people to _fraternize_ with, angel.”

“Oh, of course you do,” Aziraphale taunts back. He…does? Aziraphale feels that sting a little harder, and he can feel his own body tensing up.

“I don’t need you,” Crowley drawls, as easily as if he was saying he didn’t want to eat crepes for lunch. Was Aziraphale really that expendable to him? Would he really just throw everything away just like that?

Before he can stop himself, he snaps back, “Well, the feeling is mutual! Obviously!”

He doesn’t trust himself to say anything more, lest the tears crawl up his throat and choke him, so he just chucks the paper in the river as hard as he can.

Crowley doesn’t move at all, just watching the paper burn as Aziraphale storms away.

He wishes Crowley would follow him, would say sorry, would do anything to reassure him that he cared about him.

But he didn’t see him for another 79 years.  
________________________________________________________________________________

He was going to rob a church.

While the news disappoints him, it doesn’t surprise him. Crowley was always a bit dramatic, and it seems he’s determined to get his insurance. Or, at least, determined to get Aziraphale’s attention.

Whether it means endangering his life or not.

So, he’s getting it.

Even if Crowley has others rob the church for him, the risk is far too high that they will do something wrong and Crowley will disappear for good. 

As much as his heart aches about it, and he wishes Crowley would forget about it entirely, he knows that, in order to keep him safe, there is only one way to do it.

Straightening out his jacket, he lets out a small huff, and dials the number.

“Hello?”

“Jophiel,” Aziraphale swallows, “Hello, it’s me, Aziraphale.”

“Zira! It’s been a long time since you’ve called. How have you been?”

Aziraphale can feel his hands shake and his heart pound. Any second wasted meant that Crowley could be closer to getting himself destroyed.

“As much as I would love to chat, we should get lunch sometime to do that. For now, I need a favor, and quickly. It’s important.”

A rustling sound, “Sure thing, Zira. But you owe me one, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Right,” another rustling, “What do you need, then?”  
______________________________________________________________________________

He appears in the Bentley before Crowley has even fully stepped inside it.

As much as he loves Soho, he doesn’t truly love the huge gaudy “STRIPTEASE” sign outside the car while they have this talk, but it will have to do.

As soon as Crowley shuts the door, Aziraphale sees the demon’s body tense up for a second, before relaxing. Now that he’s realized who’s in his car, he greets the angel with pleasant surprise than anything.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale can’t miss the happy lilt to his voice.

“I needed a word with you.”

He won’t look over at Crowley, but he can feel Crowley staring at him, “What?”

“I work in Soho. I hear things,” he lets out a disappointed sigh, “I hear that you’re setting up a…”

He glances over at Crowley for the first time. He hates the hair. Loves the new jacket and turtleneck. The Lennon glasses are a nice touch.

“….caper to rob a church.”

Crowley looks away, out onto the street, tensing his shoulders to show him that he doesn’t want to have this conversation again. 

But Aziraphale _needs_ Crowley to know what this could do before he hands it over.

“Crowley, it’s too dangerous,” he swallows, “Holy water won’t just kill your body, it will destroy you completely!”

Crowley tenses up again, just as he did in 1862, getting defensive, “You told me what you think,” he clenches his jaw, “A hundred and five years ago.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind,” he admits, “But I can’t have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous.”

He feels his eyes and his heart go soft when Crowley looks away. More than anything, that’s all Aziraphale wanted. Was for Crowley to be safe.

And be safe with him. But, he supposes, one can’t have their cake and eat it too.

“So,” Aziraphale carefully picks up the water bottle off the floor, being sure to hold on to the cap very tightly, “You can call off the robbery.”

Crowley has so much emotion in his gaze that it makes Aziraphale swallow, “Don’t go on unscrewing the cap,” he warns.

The demon gently takes the bottle from him, and studies it. The second it leaves his hands, Aziraphale’s chest pangs with anxiety.

“This is the real thing?”

“The holiest,” Aziraphale lets out a breath. He wonders if Crowley can hear the fear in his voice.

But Crowley looks too overwhelmed at his kindness to worry about that, “After everything you said?”

Aziraphale gives him a tight nod, and stares out through the windshield. He can’t bear to look at him holding it any longer.

After a pause, Crowley turns to him, “Should I say thank you?”

_Thank you for letting me leave you behind._

“Better not,” Aziraphale grits his teeth.

But Crowley was insistent, “Well, could I…drop you anywhere…?”

Crowley wanted to spend time together? Now? After he basically handed him the equivalent of a ticking bomb, knowing at any moment he could use it and leave Aziraphale alone in the world for eternity?

“No,” he breathes out, “Thank you.”

He swears he sees Crowley’s bottom lip tremble.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed.”

A glance at Crowley’s face tells him he’s still disappointed. Emotionally so. He really wanted to spend time with him. Aziraphale sighs.

“Perhaps one day we could…I don’t know…”

Crowley is still pouting, waiting for him to continue.

“…go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz,” he gives Crowley a soft smile.

_Please stick around for that to happen._

“I’ll give you a lift, anywhere you wanna go,” Crowley says, as if to say, _we could do those things right now, we could go off and do anything we wanted._

But Aziraphale can’t bear to look at him right now. Not after what he’s done for him, and what he could do with it. He can’t bear to look into the eyes of his dearest friend, knowing that it could all fall apart, knowing that the demon could burn through him at any second if he wanted to.

Aziraphale hardens his heart. If Crowley wants to leave him behind, that’s fine. But Aziraphale isn’t going to let himself be hurt by it, he isn’t going to let himself be entranced by those flames any longer.

So he sighs, hoping that all of his pain and his love shows in his eyes, and whispers the truth.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

And then steps out of the car, crossing the street to start the path back to his bookshop, not looking back.

Aziraphale loves old books, and food, and dancing. He loves wine and laughter and eating pie in old diners. He loves Crowley.

But if Crowley was going to show him, over the past 105 years, that he didn’t love him back…then he wasn’t going to let that demon tempt him any longer.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

“I was thinking,” Aziraphale ponders, listening to the birds tweet back and forth above their heads as they took a stroll through Berkley Square back to the car, “Why don’t we go on holiday?”

Crowley frowned, “Holiday?”

Aziraphale hums, “Of course. We have the world now to explore, with no limitations. We could get in the car, drive out to the shore…”

Crowley scoffs, “You want to voluntarily get into the car, _my_ car, and voluntarily spend your entire holiday with me?”

Aziraphale stops, and frowns, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Crowley won’t meet his eye, watching his shoes instead, and purses his lips, “I thought you said I went…” he grits his teeth, “Too fast for you, or something.”

Aziraphale is incredulous, “Well, yes, I suppose I did say that. That was then, this is now. I’ve…” he glances out across the park, “I’ve become someone different, and you know it, and I know it. That angel, back then…he was scared,” he swallows, “Scared of caring for someone that could be dangerous for him.”

Crowley nods, but doesn’t meet his eyes. There’s a long silence between them.

“What the hell does that mean, anyway?” Crowley shakes his head, “I “go too fast for you”?”

“Crowley, I said it’s in the pa—“

“Well, not for me!” Crowley stands, facing him, “You fucking…broke my heart that night, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale is physically knocked backwards, as if struck back by the blow of his words.

“You tore me apart, and now you think you can just…” his face scrunches up, and he gestures wildly, “Say that you’ve changed, and that’s enough? That’s it? Like my pain doesn’t mean anything to you?”

Aziraphale tries to get a word in, “Crowley, I didn’t know it hurt your feelings, I was just trying to say the truth of what I—“

“The _truth_?” Crowley raises his eyes for you, “The truth is, I wanted to spend time with you, angel, I wanted to reconcile, I wanted us to be friends again, and the _truth_ is that you _snubbed me_ so you could go off and POUT about having to go fetch me a glass of—“

“You want to talk about your feelings?” Aziraphale pushes into his space, his body trembling with rage, “What about my feelings, Crowley? How do you think I felt when you asked for that holy water, how do y—“

“Oh, I know EXACTLY how you felt about the holy water,” Crowley leans away from him, “You only told me about it four THOUSAND times—“

“No, you _don’t_ know how I felt, because you won’t listen to me! You won’t! You’re still as—“

“You’re just as—“

“You won’t let me—“

“This is why I shouldn’t have—“

“Will you _please_ just listen to me!”

“No, you listen to ME!” Crowley snarls, and feels the bark of the tree dig into his back before he even registers the hands gripping his coat.

He wiggles his legs. His feet aren’t touching the ground.

Crowley’s so close that he can see his eyes through the sunglasses, and can feel his breath on his lips.

“Well?” Aziraphale swallows, “I’m listening,” he snaps.

He can see the anger fade from the demon’s eyes, slowly replaced with _hurt_. Crowley swallows, and drops him, backing up.

“I don’t want to fight with you, angel,” he says hoarsely, “I never did, I…I just want you to understand how much…”

Crowley turns, and covers his face closest to Aziraphale with his hand, his fingers under the sunglasses. Aziraphale straightens out his coat.

“…h-how…much…”

It dawns on him, with a sense of dread, that Crowley is _crying._

He rushes over to him, holding his wrist with his hand, gently nudging him to uncover his face, “Oh, Crowley…” he swallows, “I don’t want to fight with you, either.”

Crowley bites his lip to keep it from trembling. His nose has turned a lovely shade of pink.

“I just want you to know how much you broke my heart when you asked for the holy water.”

Crowley frowns, glancing up at him. Aziraphale swallows, shifting his feet, a bit embarrassed by his admission.

“Crowley, when I said…that…” he worries his lip with his teeth, “I didn’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you. I _love_ spending time with you, and it was so _stupid_ of me to say that, I should have said what I meant, and…I’m sorry.”

Crowley clears his throat, “What did you mean, then, angel?” he asks softly.

Aziraphale lets go of his arm, backing up to put about a foot and a half of space between them, “Crowley, you…when I said that…”

Crowley looks exhausted, defeated. He hates that look on him.

“You tend to…change, a lot, Crowley,” Aziraphale swallows, “I love my old books, and phones, and styles of clothes and dance and haircut and food. I love old things, because…” he can feel himself flushing, “W-Well, when I love something, I never want to let it go, or move on.”

Crowley peers over at him, as if he’s trying to gauge him.

“But you, C-Crowley,” he stutters, “Change doesn’t bother you. You’re always onto the next modern solution, what’s trendiest this month is gone the next, always changing, always moving on, moving forward—“

“Moving too fast,” Crowley rasps, catching on, “Oh, angel.”

His neck flushes with embarrassment.

“When I asked for the holy water…” Crowley nods, starting to understand, “You thought I was going to leave you behind, didn’t you?”

Aziraphale swallows. When he says it like that, it sounds stupid.

Crowley starts to laugh a little, “I like what’s new, and what’s trendy. But I also liked old things. I love moving from thing to thing because it’s exciting.” he smiles, “Tell me, angel, have I ever moved on from you? In 6,000 years?”

Aziraphale holds his breath.

“You’re not…an _object_ that I just _get bored of_. You’re not a hairstyle or a suit, you’re…you. You could never make me move on from you, angel, even when you tried,” he says, softly, “When I asked for the holy water, I meant it as a _defense mechanism._ If it all went wrong, I wanted the holy water to get the drop on them, to make sure that they couldn’t take me away from you.”

_He wanted it to stay._

_Not to leave._

Crowley steps forward, and takes both his hands, squeezing them, “I _like_ you, Aziraphale,” he says, with the most genuine emotion in his voice, “You’re not modern, or new. You like old-fashioned clothes and old books. You still use a phone from the 1920s. You still say things like, “tickety-boo” and “dear boy”, and you like the oldest wine and the most historic places.”

Crowley steps just a little closer so that they’re about a foot apart.

“You’re so different from anything I’m used to,” Aziraphale can feel the emotion in his voice, can hear the demon’s voice crack, “So different from anything I usually love, you challenge everything I’ve ever believed in or wanted. And I _love_ that about you, angel.”

Aziraphale swallows, tearing up.

“W-Well, so do you,” he stutters out, “I always admired how you just…were just always new. I always looked forward to each new outfit, new hairstyle. You were always so…” 

He squeezes Crowley’s hands and gets the courage to look up at him, “Fast. And different and strange, but wonderfully new. All the time. You always had that ability to set off that spark, you…” he smiles shyly, “…added something to…”

He smiles up at Crowley, who has tears in his eyes. Aziraphale slowly removes his sunglasses.

“You added…a little flair for the dramatics to my life, at least,” he smirks, “You…helped me learn to be brave, Crowley. To bend the rules. To realize that…” 

Crowley is very, very close now.

“That there was more to me than the side I was created to serve. That I could be…” he smiles, “That a little crazy wouldn’t hurt, every once in a while. Oh, what would I have done without you all—“

Crowley had connected their lips, and Aziraphale can feel his heart hammering in his ears. It’s a little strange, and he’s a little out of practice, but Crowley is so _eager_ , like he wants to touch every part of Aziraphale’s mouth with his own. 

One of Aziraphale’s hands flutters up to Crowley’s jacket, clutching it for dear life. He can feel Crowley’s heartbeat going as fast as his own. The other goes up to thread through the demon’s hair, pulling him closer, inviting him, _tempting_ him to continue.

When Crowley pulls away, Aziraphale pushes his forehead against Crowley’s, and whispers, “No one was watching that, right?”

The demon grins, “Nah. My treat.”

“Good,” is all Aziraphale says, before grabbing a fistful of that black tank top and forcing them together again. Crowley _groans_ into his mouth and presses him back against the tree, and it feels like Heaven on his lips.

Crowley finally pulls back, more flushed than Aziraphale had ever seen him, and then frowns, “Where’d you learn how to kiss like that, angel?”

Aziraphale arches a brow, “Are you quite sure you want to know the answer to that?”

Crowley flushes darker but raises an eyebrow of his own, and smirks.

Aziraphale grins, “In the 19th century, I…” he shrugs, starting to walk away, back toward the Bentley, “Frequented a few “discreet gentlemen’s clubs” in Soho.”

Crowley’s eyes bugged out of his head, “A discreet gentlemen’s club?!”

Aziraphale grins wider, “How do you think Soho came to be known as a historic LGBT area of London?” he teases, “It’s not an accident that I work there, you know.”

Crowley is frozen in one place, staring at him, and then he gives him the sweetest, shyest smile, shaking his head, “Seems that you didn’t even need me to help you be a little crazy, huh, angel?”

Aziraphale smirks, “Seems you didn’t need my help to be a little more reserved,” he grins, “You slept through the whole 19th century?”

Crowley shrugs, “Not the entire thing, about 79 years,” he nods, sauntering up until they were walking at the same speed, although, at that point, they were already at the curb, “Until about…” his smile turns shy, “1941?”

1941?

Crowley woke up…just to save him?

Aziraphale feels his face grow hot, “Get in the car.”

Crowley looks taken aback, “What?”

Aziraphale opens driver’s side door, “Get in,” he whispers, “I want to kiss you again, and that miracle’s starting to wear off.”

“Right,” Crowley smirks, getting in the driver seat. After Aziraphale was safely in the other side, he lunges at him. It’s fast and new, like he is, the demon who was practically sitting on his lap, and it’s _so warm, and good, and_ —

Crowley pulls away, then, slipping into the driver’s seat. The demon smirks at him, “Okay, angel, how about a drink? I’ll give you a lift, anywhere you wanna go.”

Aziraphale recognizes the parallel and gives his most innocent smile, “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Your place,” Aziraphale takes his hand on the clutch, “Right. Now.”

The speed they would probably drive was almost worth it to see that look on Crowley’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> hello that's the end!! I hope you liked it.
> 
> thank you for reading!!
> 
> PS. (Michael Sheen, you mad lad, you probably won't find this fanfiction, but if you happen to be reading this: thank you for all the work you've done in the Good Omens fan community and thank you for being such a cool guy.)
> 
> Edit: oh my goodness thank you guys!! I am SO emotional over all of your sweet comments. Crying happy tears. I will be responding to them soon but it’s 1 am and I just wanted to say, as soon as possible, how much I appreciate your wonderful feedback! Thank you for being so nice and wonderful!!


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